


all the good boys go to hell

by create2exist



Category: Dream Team RPF, Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Youtubers, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Based on a playlist i made, Catholic School, Cigarettes, Fluff, Gun Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Guilt, idk how to tag this, they dont use them on people tho dw, they're both 18 !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/create2exist/pseuds/create2exist
Summary: Catholic school can be hell, so might as well accept it and start sinning.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dream/George - Relationship, Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 81
Kudos: 286





	1. Pure

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this playlist i made https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6UE10tMceDSnAHTw8u5t5d?si=yexwC2I6QkaFhtq8OmqUPQ
> 
> George and Clay are both 18 and are seniors in hs :)
> 
> Shoutout to my bae Chloe for editing this and being overall the best ever !!

Mass was Clay’s least favorite thing in the world. In the back pew of the chapel, the gospels and sermons usually lulled him to sleep. However, today he was somehow much too awake to drift away into a deep sleep. 

_ “First John 2:18-21,” _ said Priest Thompson to the microphone placed at the altar, Bible propped up on a wooden stand and today’s gospel ready to be read.

_ “Children, this is the final hour; you have heard that the Antichrist is coming, and now many Antichrists have already come; from this we know that it is the final hour.” _

Clay’s eyebrow raised at the quote. The thought of the Antichrist being among them intrigued him, even if he wasn’t too confident in his faith.

_ “They have gone from among us, but they never really belonged to us; if they had belonged to us, they would have stayed with us. But this was to prove that not one of them belonged to us,”  _ the priest continued, his tone now somewhat exaggeratedly menacing, as if he was telling a horror story to a group of little kids. Clay chuckled as he realized that it wasn’t too far from the truth, which earned him a dirty look from a nearby teacher.

Looking away and playing coy, his eyes met another’s from the next row of pews to his right. The owner of such an intense gaze was someone Clay had been eyeing for a while, the school’s sweetheart and resident genius.

_ George Davidson. _

George has always been a good boy, always labeled as a parent’s true dream and a teacher’s delight. His uniform tie was always straight and his hair always in place just like it should be, his innocence filled eyes and correctness almost eye-roll worthy. 

_ Little did Clay and the rest of the school know, George was also a dirty little liar.  _

His saint-like behavior was all an act, nothing more than a role that pleased everyone around him and kept him entertained. Sure, it was sort of twisted and manipulative of him, but the ability to make people fall at his feet satisfied him enough to forget it.

On the other hand, Clay was far from angelic. He was a nightmare, yet he looked like everyone’s daydream. Tousled hair and wrinkly shirts were his signatures, as well as his ever present cocky smirk that simultaneously drove teachers insane and made the girls’ knees shake.

They were complete opposites, yet something about George was extremely intriguing to him. The way he moved through the school’s hallways, his sickly-sweet tone and the hours he spent at the library made Clay incredibly curious.

_ There’s no way someone could be so perfect. Something must be up with him. _

So, he made it his mission to find out exactly what was up with the resident school angel.

Coming back to earth, Clay shot the boy a smirk that was soon to be mimicked and returned. It caught him off-guard, he couldn’t help but notice this one was way different from the shy smiles he would give to whoever crossed his path in the corridors. It was genuine and filled with something Clay couldn’t identify. It wasn’t oversweetened or cloying, the mischievousness of it slipped through the cracks and confused him. He had never seen such a smile come from such a sweet boy.

As communion time approached, he reluctantly kneeled on the ground and took his eyes away from George, the newfound silence reigning in the chapel as the priest took a part of the sacrament and sipped on the wine. After some words, teachers indicated it was time to partake in communion and all students had to form two lines in order to get to the altar, where the pastor and his altar boys were giving out the body of Christ.

Clay followed the crowd, towering over many of his peers in the line and suddenly realizing he was right by George’s side on the line. He could finally see him up close, examining his long eyelashes that fluttered as he slowly looked up to meet Clay’s gaze and counting every faint freckle on the bridge of his nose.

“The body of Christ,” said the priest, snapping both boys out of their trance.

“Amen,” George softly whispered, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue slightly for the altar boy to put the sacrament in his mouth. The sight was supposed to be innocent, a simple devout receiving the savior’s body, but Clay couldn’t help but see it as some sort of teasing.

The priest coughed slightly, looking at Clay with disapproving eyes because of how long he was taking. Once the host was placed in his mouth, he went back to his seat as the cardboard tasting sheet dissolved in his mouth.

An agonizingly long half-hour went by and mass was finally over, a bell signaling all students to go back and settle into their last class of the day.

_ Fucking history. _

To say Clay hated that class would be an understatement. Aside from being completely uninterested, he was incapable of retaining all of the infinite information. As a result, when his teacher approached him before class started about assigning him a partner in order to pass this semester, he couldn’t help but groan. 

Being forced to stay after hours with Miss Chandler to discuss this topic wasn’t on his Friday afternoon agenda, but he knew that if he didn’t pass this semester he’d be in big trouble. So, when the middle-aged woman called him over to her desk he reluctantly complied.

“I’ve been thinking, and I really believe a bit of help would help you improve your grades,” Miss Chandler said in a sweet tone. He hated the subject but the teacher was actually rather nice to him. She continued, “I have already talked with another student about tutoring, I think he could really help you out now that finals and all are approaching.”

“And who’s that student?” Clay raised an eyebrow, resting his weight on the edge of the teacher’s desk and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Me,” called out a voice that approached them silently, the very distinct British accent made Clay bite back a smile, “Miss Chandler told me a bit about the topics you’re struggling with, and I’m more than happy to help!”

George gifted Clay a smile as sweet as his tone, making him feel warmth in his chest and the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, I'm down,” Clay feigned nonchalance, excited on the inside to get a step closer to figuring this guy out. He shrugged, now standing straight and making his way to the door before saying his goodbyes to the teacher, “You coming?” he asked George.

Like a puppy, George went ahead and followed after him into the school’s empty hallways. Once they reached the gates and left the school, Clay stopped and turned to face him only to realize George was looking at him already.

“How does 6pm at the library sound to you?” George asked with a smirk.

“Sounds perfect to me,” Clay replied, returning the smirk and walking away without looking back.


	2. Young God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for smoking cigarettes !

Clay rushed out of his house, late as always. The walk to the library wasn’t too long and he had his bike, so he didn’t worry much. 

As he approached the old building he could make out the silhouette of someone sitting by the entrance in the distance, somehow he didn’t recognize them, though, his vision too blurry to make out a distant face. 

_He definitely should get that checked out._

Once he was closer to the library he smirked at the sight of George waiting for him, looking perfect and correct as always. Clay noticed how his face lit up as he got closer, eyes subtly looking him up and down.

George greeted him simply, a smile growing big on his face and showing perfect pearly whites. Clay returned it, opening the heavy old-fashioned wooden door that led to the inside and inviting him to go in.

Once inside the empty library, they settled on a table and wasted no time on starting to take out their materials and textbooks. 

“So, I’ve got a list of some of the topics you need help with…” George started off talking and explaining what Miss Chandler had told him, but Clay couldn’t help but zone out as he admired his face for what felt like the millionth time today. He counted every freckle, admired his eyebrow scar, and wondered what his pink lips tasted like.

“Clay?” he called out, making him snap out of his trance, “Are you listening to me?”

_Fuck no he wasn’t._

“Yeah, yeah,” Clay nodded, “I got it.”

“Okay, great. How about we go to page 204 and start reading so we can make a summary of the unit?” 

With that being said, they got to reading. After an hour of working together, Clay learned how good of a tutor George was. His tone was calm as he explained all he didn’t understand and didn’t fail to make witty remarks or comments as they reviewed the text, somehow he learned more in an hour than he had in four classes.

Without even noticing it, Clay was staring once again.

“You’re not subtle, y’know? Might as well take a picture while you’re at it,” George’s eyes lifted from the page, face unreadable. 

“What?” He was stunned, never before he had imagined goody two shoes George would make such a remark. Clay opened his mouth to say something back but was cut off by a sigh escaping the opposite’s lips.

“It’s getting late, we should leave it here,” the sun set without either of them noticing, only realizing the darkness outside by looking out the big glass window by their table. Both got up and started packing up, not one single word being said between them before finally heading to the entrance. 

George smirked at the young librarian on their way out, Clay caught it instantly and let out a small chuckle.

Once out, both boys stood under the faint moonlight for a moment. Clay grabbed his bike and turned to George, smiling at him for the hundredth time today.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” Clay said as he rolled his bike to the street, walking by George’s side.

“I’ll see you around,” the boy echoed before turning on his heels and walking in the opposite direction from where he was going.

As George disappeared in the distance, Clay started mindlessly pedalling back home through the familiar streets of his neighborhood.

**━━━**

After being scolded for being late to dinner, Clay made his way to his room with a sandwich and his bag in hand. He flipped the light switch in his room and groaned at the sight of his unorganized room, knowing damn well his mother would scold him for the messy bedsheets and discarded clothes on the floor.

Closing the door behind him, he dropped the bag to the side of the bed and flopped into it. A smile couldn’t help but light up his face as he remembered the events of that day, confusion regarding how flustered he was for the first time in forever still in the back of his mind. With a sigh and some reluctance, he got up and grabbed his bag before making his way to his desk.

Once seated he turned on his computer and opened his book on the exact unit George had instructed him to read once again aside from his carefully written notes. Flipping through pages as he waited, he found a piece of ripped paper in between them.

_Meet me at the chapel on monday, last period :)_

**━** _George_

All Clay did was smirk and lean back on his chair, re-reading the message and analyzing the quickly written words. They didn’t look as neat as his notes, his handwriting was far more rushed and somewhat shaky. Clay wondered if he was nervous when he wrote it.

Shaking thoughts out of his head, he closed his book once his sandwich was done and gave into a YouTube rabbit hole until he could feel his eyes getting tired. The clock showed an hour he didn’t pay attention to, all he could notice was that it was already the AM.

He changed his clothes as quickly as possible and flopped into bed, not even bothering to put the covers over his body.

**━━━**

  
  


The weekend passed by quickly, Clay distracted himself by hanging out with friends and getting into trouble, basically his weekend ritual at this point. 

Monday morning arrived, and Clay was running late to school as always. Pedaling through the streets and dodging cars, he finally made it as the bell rang. Contrary to his weekend, classes dragged out as if his teachers were doing it on purpose. 

Despite all the waiting, he expertly snuck out of his last class, way too used to sneaking out without being noticed, either if it was just to smoke a cigarette in the bathroom or just to get some air and roam around the empty track field.

In less than five minutes he was already at the chapel, a white building with beautiful architecture that was big enough to fit all of the students. He spotted George in the distance, sitting in a pew with a leg up resting on the one in front of him. The sight was surprising, his lack of care for sitting properly like he did while in mass astonished him.

“You wanted to see me?” Clay’s voice bounced off the wall, his words echoing. His default cocky smirk plastered on his face as he approached George.

He turned around, smiling back at him and getting up to meet him halfway.

“Yeah,” George’s body language was the opposite of what he had seen before, he was slicker, way more comfortable, “Glad you showed up.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Oh no, I knew you would,” He chuckled before gesturing to him to go back to the pew and sit by his side.

Clay let out a breathy laugh at his confidence, “Why did you want to meet me, huh?” he said as he got closer and sat down next to him.

“Just felt like it,” George shrugged and looked him in the eye, “Just felt like getting to know you.”

“Getting to know me,” He echoed, “I’d like that.”

“Good.”

They went silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Both looked at the sanctuary until George sighed and decided to go through his bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. 

_We smoke the same brand_ , Clay thought after opening his eyes wide like plates, taken aback.

“Want one?” He offered without taking his eyes off the cross before him. Clay took one and fished his lighter out of his pocket, lighting up both his and George’s. The brunette turned to him with the cigarette hanging from his lips.

“This is mindblowing,” Clay said after taking his first drag, “Who would’ve thought you’d be so careless.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” George laughed.

After minutes of shared laughs and drags, they both stopped abruptly as they heard the sound of footsteps coming from the side of the building.

The next thing they knew, they were picking up their bags and running through the corridor in between the pews, trying to make it outside in time not to get caught.


	3. Trouble

Quickly, they picked up their bags and ran carefully through the corridor in between the pews, making it outside just in time not to get caught. George grabbed Clay’s hand instinctively and led the way.

Still on the move, they reached the track field and hid between the bleachers before erupting into laughter. They felt invincible, Godlike even. 

No matter how small the event may seem, adrenaline ran through their veins, just like electricity would. Clay was already used to running from cops and angry authority figures, but this time was like no other. His hand on George’s enhanced the experience and made it seem even more sacrilegious, reminding him of that one time his religion teacher told him that “misbehaving would lead him nowhere but down the wrong path.” 

And, if that path gave him this much excitement and exhilaration, then he wanted to go nowhere but down there.

“That was fucking close,” Clay wheezed, free hand over his aching stomach.

“Tell me about it,” George said as he tried to even out his breath after the run.

Seconds passed, and both boys simultaneously looked down at their hands, fingers still interlocked. For a while, neither of them said a word until Clay coughed and George took it away to look for something in his bag again.

Clay wondered what other surprises he hid there aside from his cigarette pack.

“Here,” George handed him some carefully stacked papers clipped at the edge, “I took more notes and made a summary for you.”

The blond looked down at the papers, face lighting up at the thought of not having to spend hours writing down notes in his messy handwriting. 

“Thanks, George,” his name rolled off his tongue sweetly, followed right after by a smile and the sudden ring of the bell cutting through the moment like a knife.

Apparently, this was George’s cue to get up from the floor and dust his pristine uniform off. Grabbing his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and offered Clay a hand to help him get up. He took it, the feeling somewhat familiar and natural after the turn of events moments earlier.

“Gotta go,” the brunette announced before getting closer to Clay and kissing his cheek, the simple gesture enough to light up his entire body, “I’ll see you around, Clay.”

Even after George was long gone into the distance, Clay stood in the same spot. He wanted to run, yet couldn’t move a single muscle. 

His cheek felt hot, the feeling in the very spot where the other’s lips had rested for a millisecond slowly setting him on fire. He felt marked, even if the kiss was child’s play. 

Reaching his hand up to the kissed spot, he reached its invisible mark and softly touched it. Thoughts of all kinds showed up in his head, but the one that stuck was the memory of a myth he had been taught.

“The Mark of Cain,” he dumbfoundedly whispered to himself, surprised he remembered it’s meaning. Looking back, he recalled how the story went and, even if this context was completely different, he couldn’t help but compare.

God had given Cain the mark to protect him, showing the world that whoever hurt him would suffer even more. 

George had given Clay his own mark to protect him, showing only him he would never hurt him nor make him suffer.

Shaking his head, he let his hand fall to his side and began to walk over to the bike rack by the entrance, ready to make his way home with a smile on his face.

**━━━**

The rest of the day wasn’t interesting at all, the hours passed relatively quickly as he scrolled through social media and played games on his computer. Memories of today’s events came and went in his mind throughout the day, making him smile randomly.

Once done with a quiet dinner with his family, Clay made his way back upstairs to his room. Sitting on his desk chair, he spun around before stopping and eyeing his bag that laid next to his bed. A sudden urge to check out the notes George had given him took over, he didn’t really care about the content, all he wanted to do is look back at his carefully written letters like he did back in the library.

Laying the pages on his desk, he started reading without taking any information in. All he cared for was the choice of highlighter color George had used and how he put circles instead of dots in his i’s. 

After skimming through the notes, he reached the final page and found himself face to face with something written in blue glittery pen at the end of the page.

_“I’m sure just meeting at the chapel won’t be enough, so maybe text me after?_

_\- George :) ”_

Written below was a phone number that Clay didn’t hesitate to add to his contacts immediately, but hesitated to text right away.

He did it anyway, convincing himself this wasn’t any different than texting any other person he’s flirted with. He decided to keep it casual, hiding his foreign nerves behind a “ _hey it’s clay :)”_

The reply was almost instant, the three dots not even appearing because of how fast he was.

_George: hey! took you long enough lol_

_Clay: patience is a virtue_

_George: you got me there_

_Clay: anyways, wyd :)_

_George: “wyd”? okay fuckboy…_

_George: are you gonna hit me with a “sup” next?_

Clay laughed at the replies, amused by how bold he was. 

_“George definitely is a box full of surprises”,_ he thought to himself.

Throwing himself into bed, he laid there for some minutes without giving George a reply. He smiled at the ceiling, feeling like a complete cliché.

_Clay: already hating on me? u dont even know me!_

_George: i want to tho_

_George: you’re intriguing_

_Clay: could say the same about u_

Minutes passed and so did hours, texts went back and forth and Clay couldn’t stay away from his phone. He needed to talk to him, to finally start piecing together the puzzle this devil in disguise was.

_George: wanna do smth fun?_

_Clay: hmmm_

_Clay: depends_

_Clay: will it get us in trouble?_

_George: definitely :)_


	4. Electricity

Clay smiled at the last text sent, intrigued and already exhilarated by the thought of meeting George once again.

_ Clay: what do you have in mind? _

_ George: meet me at the park by the library in 20 _

And so he did, climbing out his window and carefully walking across the front yard to get his bike and make his way to the park as fast as possible through the empty streets. The chilly midnight air hit his once blushing cheeks, the contrast between heat and coolness feeling somewhat nice yet strange. 

_ Just like George’s kiss, _ he thought as he reached a curve nearing the park.

Like the first time they met at the library, Clay could only make out a silhouette in the distance that he assumed was George. He was leaning on the fence placed around the park to keep people out after 9pm. Clay thought it was quite lame. After getting off his bike, he rolled it over to where the other boy stood, a hint of a smile appeared on his face, in turn to seem somewhat cool and nonchalant.

“Hey,” Clay greeted simply as he finally dropped the facade and gave George a sly smirk.

George chuckled, shooting back the same smirk, “Hi.”

“So,” the blond put his hands in his pockets, protecting them from the cold. “What’s the plan, huh?”

“The plan,” George began as he looked at the fence he was just leaning on, “is to get to the other side.”

Clay looked up as well, adrenaline already pumping through his veins. He let a chuckle escape his throat and, without even thinking about it twice, he grabbed onto the metal bars and began climbing. George followed behind him, getting a bit ahead with agile movements. 

_ He’s totally no stranger to this. _

Once both reached the top, they sat there for a second and looked down at the grass below. Their eyes met before deciding to jump, a silent agreement and trust pact being made as they looked at each other. Suddenly, George took Clay’s hand once again just like he did back in the chapel.

The fall wasn’t that bad, weird jolts of something familiar to electricity ran up from their feet to their knees, but it didn’t really hurt thanks to his adrenaline levels.

“C’mon, let’s go to the playground,” George said excitedly, leading the way. Neither of them noticed they were still holding hands, but in all honesty, they didn’t really mind.

After being dragged across the park, Clay looked around and recalled the times he had played there when he was a kid. None of the memories were exactly happy, but they were distant anyway.

He suddenly felt George’s warm hand leave his cold one, a feeling of longing for his warmth invading his whole body. Looking around, he saw the brunette now sitting on a swing and smiled at the sight before making his way towards him and taking a seat.

Both fell silent for a moment, only the creaking of the swings as they went back and forth and the crickets filling in the air.

“I stole something from my dad’s fridge, by the way,” George said as he grabbed his bag laying on the sand. Clay wondered what surprise he’d pull out from it now, discarding the idea of it being cigarettes or notes again.

He heard glass clink together for a moment, his attention peaking high. George turned to him, smiled, and proudly held two glass bottles of beer.

“They’re probably kinda warm by now,” George laughed and so did Clay, “but it’s still something, isn’t it?”

“It definitely is,” Clay smiled as he grabbed one of the bottles, quickly getting his keys from the back pocket of his jeans as George watched him expectantly. Way too used to forgetting bottle openers, he expertly opened both in no time.

“Let’s toast,” George suggested.

“To what?” 

“Hmm…” he stopped to think for a couple of seconds, “to passing history.”

Clay couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh before raising his bottle.

“To passing history, then,” he agreed, taking his first swig, “God, this tastes like piss.”

“I know,” George said shaking his head, “expensive piss, though.”

Both shared laughs and stories in between sips and cigarette drags under the moonlight, taking in each other's company. They were alone without feeling lonely, no one else mattered. 

After getting sick of the swings and done with their beers, they moved on to lay on the cold grass. They stayed in silence for a moment, Clay admiring the night sky and George admiring Clay’s side profile.

“Might as well take a picture while you’re at it,” the blond chuckled and mimicked what George had said on their first meeting back at the library, eyes not leaving the sky.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” George’s lips tugged into a smile, eyes lighting up once Clay dared look him in the eye.

“Well, I stole it,” Clay’s tone was teasing, as per usual, “what are you gonna do about it?”

The brunette’s smile never left his face, but now it turned into a cocky smirk as he raised an eyebrow. He knew damn well two could play this game, so he got as close as he could to Clay and cupped his jaw with delicate hands.

“This,” George whispered before kissing him. 

The kiss was tender, yet electrifying. Clay’s lips on George’s felt just right, like a puzzle finally being completed or a dart perfectly hitting the center of the board. 

He felt so many emotions at once, yet he couldn’t describe it in one word.

_ Was it longing? Was it him finally figuring George out? Or was it the need to feel alive? _

Time froze and the world stopped turning but they kept on moving, kept on kissing like they never had before. 

_ Clay felt as if he was marked once again, just like Cain. _

Pulling away slowly, both boys looked into each other's eyes momentarily as realization hit.

“Let’s go, the sun is going to rise soon,” George said before getting up and stretching, looking down at Clay still laying in the grass. They both flashed each other a smile.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Clay agreed, getting up and starting to walk towards the fence by the other’s side. They easily climbed it and hopped over, the same buzz of electricity took over their feet as they hit the ground. 

“See you in a bit?” the taller of the pair asked hopefully as he grabbed his bike.

“Yeah,” George nodded, quick to turn on his heels and walk the opposite way from Clay’s house.

Once again Clay was left alone with his thoughts as he pedaled back home, these filled with images of George and the lingering feeling of his lips. Carefully, he got to his house and managed to climb up his window and back into his room.

The digital clock marked the time in which he had to get ready for school, so he did just that before checking his phone. He smiled right as a notification popped up.

_ George: this was fun, we should do it again sometime :) _


	5. Begging on my Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew this is a long one! hope u guys are enjoying this story so far :) i'm writing here to just do a shameless self promo oops but if u guys want to follow my twitter its @confdnf !! i always post there when i update.

Clay saw George walk through the corridors without even batting an eye at him, no smiles nor smirks being shot his way. It surprised him, of course, but it didn’t affect him that much. He knew guys like him and guys like George weren’t meant to hang out anyways, so he just kept on going and put his books in the locker before heading to the locker room with his gym bag in hand.

Gym was the only class Clay actually liked, as he excelled at it. Being part of the soccer team contributed to his enjoyment. He walked down the halls with confidence, already starting to loosen up his tie before getting to the locker room where he was met with all his classmates.

Clay didn’t actually have many friends, his soccer teammates and people he sat with at lunch were as close as he got with anyone at school. He had one close friend, though. That being the neighboring public school troublemaker, Nick.

Nick was a peculiar guy. The boys met back in middle school and instantly started hanging out after Nick gave Clay one of his cigarettes to try at his first ever party. He introduced him to all kinds of things ever since, most of them being vices. Nick wasn’t a bad guy though, he was a loyal friend and understood Clay like no other, even after his expulsion from school because he vandalized the chapel. Ever since that incident, they both stayed in touch and have only gotten closer ever since.

After finding his locker and beginning to take his clothes out of his bag, Clay couldn’t help but lay eyes on a distant George. He had his shirt off, his porcelain skin showing and begging to be kissed by Clay. 

Shaking his head and focusing on getting undressed, Clay took his gaze away only to unbutton his shirt. To say he didn’t feel burning eyes on him would be a lie, he knew damn well everyone couldn’t help but stare. Clay felt selfish and conceited, but he knew he was attractive. 

_ People either wanted him or wanted to be him. _

He could especially feel George’s eyes on him, his burning stare scanned the blond’s body just like he had done before. Smirking, he grabbed his phone quickly and sent George a text.

_ Clay: might as well take a picture _

Seconds passed and he heard a phone notification from the other side of the room. 

  
  


_ George: you’re so lame _

Clay chuckled, finishing up and walking over to the track field to meet their teacher. After some talking and roll call, all boys were instructed to run two laps around the field. 

Quick to start running, Clay was in the lead and didn’t bother too much to pay attention to his surroundings. His feet moved on their own, mind clouded by thoughts as he took this moment to reflect since his body was on autopilot.

“Boys,” the teacher called, making everyone pay attention. He continued to separate everyone into teams, still not telling anyone what they were going to play. Clay hoped to God for it to be soccer.

And so it was, as the teacher threw a ball towards George, trying to make him react rapidly but miserably failing after he didn’t catch it.

“If you’re gonna be the goalie, you better exercise those reflexes, Davidson,” he said, making George awkwardly smile and nod before meeting his teammates in the field.

Clay chuckled at this, the contrast between the confident George he met back at the chapel and the George who couldn’t even catch a ball properly was abysmal. It was kind of cute in his eyes.

The match went swiftly, the opposing team was mostly made up of Clay’s soccer teammates, making the match weirdly difficult for him. No matter how good he could be in the field, not having a solid team could really affect the player’s performance.

That’s exactly what was happening to Clay at the moment. His skills were there, obviously, but the rest of the players weren’t helping at all, making him get somewhat frustrated and tired of carrying the match. 

The match was about to come to an end and both teams were eye to eye, one goal away from defining who was going to be the winner. This motivated Clay like nothing before in the game, so he easily received a pass and focused on the goal. He moved with agility as he ran after the ball, swiftly evading other players, and finally, with calculated movements and strength, he kicked the ball aiming to score.

In a matter of seconds, the ball didn’t go directly in the direction Clay had aimed for and unfortunately hit the goalie’s face.

_ George’s face. _

Clay panicked and ran as fast as he could towards a completely knocked over George, laying on the grass and being assisted immediately by the teacher. Blood splattered into the ball and covered George’s already swollen nose. His stomach dropped, the sight making him quickly drop to his knees to make sure he was okay.

After many are “you okay”’s and “I’m so sorry”’s, Clay was instructed to help a very concussed George up before leading him to the nurse’s office.

“Dude I’m so sorry, I promise it wasn’t my intention,” the blond apologized as they walked through the halls, George holding his head up to stop the bleeding and Clay leading him by resting his hand on his back.

“It’s okay,” he said in a bit of a nasally voice, “it was bound to happen anyway.”

“I know, but I still feel so fucking bad,” Clay couldn’t stop the guilt building in the pit of his stomach, he had never felt this bad about hurting someone. He had gotten in a fair share of fights and hit opponents with balls more than once, but this felt different. 

He needed to care for George and didn’t know exactly why.

“It’s totally okay, dumbass,” the brit said fondly, “now I look pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“Oh, totally,” they chuckled before reaching the nurse, who worked her magic and wiped the blood off George’s nose even if he flinched at every touch. Clay sat outside the office even though he didn’t really need to, he was free to leave already but opted for waiting until George was out.

Ever so sweetly, George walked out and gave the nurse a last smile through the pain as he said goodbye. He raised an eyebrow at Clay, not really expecting him to wait for him.

“You know you could’ve left, right?”

“Yeah, but I just…” how could he put it in a way that wasn’t too caring and out of character for him? 

“...I just wanted to make sure you were okay, y’know?” Clay scratched the back of his neck nervously, still in shock over how much of an effect George had on him.

“How sweet of you,” George’s tone was sarcastic, but both knew he actually meant it. Somehow, both their hearts and minds were in sync, beating and racing at the same speed.

They walked out of the school, the perimeter now desolate since all students had left about 30 minutes ago after the bell rang. Side by side and in comfortable silence, they reached the bike rack where Clay’s bike rested. For some reason, seeing George wait for him gave him butterflies.

Despite the thick gauze taped to his nose, Clay found the sight of him looking down at his phone as he waited under the afternoon sun really pretty, so he had a brilliant idea.

Taking his phone out, he remembered their past conversations, the first move at the library, both of them laying in the grass, George’s eyes on him in the locker room, it all inspired him to take out his phone and snap a picture of an unsuspecting George.

He sent it to him immediately, knowing he’d get the notification and click on it instantly. He looked up, waiting for a reaction.

George looked up after inspecting the picture, opening his mouth to complain but being interrupted by Clay’s laughter.

“Might as well take a picture, right?”

“You’re so lame,” George deadpanned before breaking down and joining Clay in laughter.

After pedaling through the suburbs, Clay got home with a smile on his face that suddenly dropped when his parents sat him down in the living room with no explanation. He braced himself for a scolding and a myriad of complaints, but what he got instead was unexpected.

His parents were going on a trip for a week.

He tried to repress a smile, a million ideas popping up in his head for when they were finally gone. The main one was quite obvious, his teenage brain was predictable and already planning how to get alcohol and some speakers.

_ He was throwing a big party and no one was going to stop him. _

**━━━**

The day had come and Clay’s parents were already gone by morning, leaving Clay to organize early and invite Nick to have lunch and go over the details.

“Okay so,” Nick began as he chewed on his grilled cheese, “BYOB for sure, we can get some stuff but we’re definitely tight on budget after paying that dude for the speakers.”

Clay shrugged, sitting on the chair in front of his best friend and leaning back. He was confident this party was going to go well after hyping it up all week.

Classmates were coming, as well as friends and friends of friends. 

Nick was on playlist duty as they spoke and stuffed their faces with food, and Clay was already getting up to try and move the living room’s furniture around. They still needed to drive and go get some alcohol and ice, but they decided to leave it for the last minute. Everything was looking up for them.

Clay got his phone as he stood in the middle of the living room, the buzzing of an incoming text distracting him from the task at hand.

_ George: there’s no way i’m going _

He furrowed his brows, his many failed attempts at convincing George to come to the party futile.

_ Clay: oh c’monnnn we’re gonna have so much fun _

_ Clay: i will only beg x100 times _

_ George: and you will not change my mind every single time _

_ Clay: IM ON MY KNEES  _

_ George: kinda sexy but still no _

_ Clay: get ur mind outta the gutter and come to my party _

With that, Clay put his phone away and made his way to the kitchen to help out Nick and get his parents’ car keys since noon was approaching. Both argued for a bit over who was going to drive, Clay refusing to let his friend go behind the wheel after the many incidents they’ve had before. Crashing his parents’ car was absolutely not something he was going to let happen.

After picking out different types of alcohol and arguing once again, but this time over a cheap bottle of regular Tito’s or expensive flavored Smirnoff. Nick won this fight for the first time ever, so they got a couple of bottles of the most common kind.

Placing all beer packs and various bottles, both boys set off back to Clay’s home before sunset. The speaker dude got there to drop them off shortly after, right when they got to the place.

Everything was ready, and all they had to do was wait.

9pm rolled around in the blink of an eye, and by 10pm the house was pretty much filled with people, some Clay knew and some he didn’t.

He sat on a couch in the middle of the room, surrounded by soccer teammates and a couple of girls, most sharing a joint and some drinking god knows what from red solo cups.

Getting up to grab a new can of beer, Clay walked by a multitude of people and made his way towards the kitchen, walking in on a couple making out which he totally ignored and chuckled at. With a can in hand, he set off back to the couch but accidentally bumped into someone in the crowd.

“Sorry, I didn’t s─ George!?” he exclaimed in surprise, completely caught off guard by his presence, “I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

“Maybe you begging on your knees convinced me,” George’s words were filled with boldness, but his body language definitely showed otherwise. He seemed nervous, uncomfortable even.

Clay grabbed his hand, the same electricity as always running through his body. He took him far away from the crowd, somewhere he could finally put all his attention on him and not have to scream that much over the music.

“I’m glad you came,” Clay shot him a genuine smile, fingers interlocking with his.

“Yeah, I guess you convinced me after all,” George was tense, but somehow he relaxed as Clay took his hand.

“You seem nervous.”

“I am,” he chuckled dryly.

“You’ve never been to a party before?” Clay was conflicted, on one hand, he suspected his statement was true due to his reputation, but after getting to know him more these past couple of days he started having some doubts.

“No, it’s not that. I’ve just never been to a party where I actually know the people attending.”

“Ohhh, is goody two shoes George scared of messing up his rep?” the blond teased, knowing too well the alcohol was the reason behind his heightened boldness.

“Shut up, asshole,” George didn’t seem to be affected by Clay’s words, he was actually quite entertained by them.

“Let’s go get you some booze to calm your nerves, yeah?” 

“Promise it won't taste like expensive piss again?”

“Promise,” Clay giggled, tugging George by the hand and getting him a beer.

After two cans and a couple of shots done with someone, a dude named Nick that Clay introduced him to quickly, they were both feeling the alcohol. With their hands unable to stay off of each other, they were now on the move.

“Where are we going?” George yelled over the loud music, hoping Clay could hear him.

“You’ll see,” he replied, making his way up the stairs and into a corridor, stopping right by a white door. “Get in,” Clay smiled and opened the door for George, who didn’t hesitate to step in and smile right back at him.

The brunette looked around, examining every poster on the wall and even the color of his sheets. After Clay closed the door, George sat down on the bed without even asking and getting comfortable. Clay sat down beside him, the ever-present smirk on his face and his green eyes staring directly into George’s brown ones.

The world stopped just like it did back in the park, they were alone but never lonely whenever they were together and their breathing aligned. Supernovas invaded their chests and stars filled their eyes, both getting lost in the moment.

“I have an idea,” Clay whispered.


	6. Found

“You have an idea? That cannot be good,” George snickered, tone playful and teasing.

“Oh c’mon,” rolling his eyes, Clay got up and made his way to his desk, opening the last drawer and cheekily smiling as he took something out that was hidden in the back.

He walked back to George, but instead of sitting on the bed, he opted to rest on the floor before setting the pouch down in front of him.

“The fuck do you have there,” George questioned as he sat down on the floor as well, “a gun or something?”

“Even better,” Clay emphasized the last word, making the opposite’s brows furrow, “voilà!”

He took out the contents one by one and laid it before the two of them. Clay could tell George was clueless as to what it all was, looking quite puzzled as he scanned every object.

A white lighter, rolling papers, a grinder, filters, and a retainer container. The last one surprised George, throwing him off as to what was going on.

Clay saw the look in his eyes and chuckled, quickly opening the small container and showing him some weed nugs. That's when it all pieced together for George.

“Weed?” George was somewhat amazed, yet completely expecting it from Clay for some reason. He kinda looked like the stoner type, in his humble opinion.

“Weed,” Clay echoed, reading the other’s expression and coming to a conclusion, “hold on, George, have you ever gotten high before?”

“Uh, not really,” he looked kind of nervous, something Clay would’ve never expected after getting to know him better.

A smile crept across the blond’s face before quickly getting to work. George watched as he worked his magic, mesmerized by Clay’s skilled fingers. 

Looking up before finishing the task, Clay’s green eyes fixated on George’s brown ones as he licked the paper. The action was completely mundane, but it felt quite intimate and hypnotizing as he watched his lips part and his tongue stick out almost teasingly, clouding his mind with prohibited thoughts.

George stayed in his trance for a couple more seconds, only snapping out of it when Clay put the joint up to his lips.

“First one is yours,” Clay chuckled, looking at him with fond eyes.

Sometime after shared giggles and stories, Clay’s head somehow ended up in George’s lap while he played with his hair. The moment was perfect, something both had only seen in cliché romcoms.

All good things must come to an end, and the peaceful moment quickly did after Nick invited himself inside the room without knocking. Clay suddenly sat up straight and George choked on the smoke, his visit catching both off guard.

“Oh shit, did I interrupt something?” Nick asked, entering the room and closing the door behind him regardless. Clay shot him a gaze full of hatred, internally planning how to get back to him in the future after ruining the moment.

“What do you want?” Clay simply muttered before getting up and leaving a dazed and stoned George sitting on the floor empty-handed.

“I just wa─ hold on, George?” the intruder’s eyes widened, the boy looked far from the George he knew back in middle school.

“Hey,” George calmly smiled up at him, joint in hand, “Nick, right?”

“Yeah, hi,” he was still confused, but rolled with it anyway, “Clay can I talk to you for a sec?”

Nick opened the door, both stepping out into the corridor.

“What the fuck did I just see?” the shorter of the pair asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “was that real, or am I tripping?”

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Clay didn’t understand the surprise in Nick’s face, but then the realization hit. He had forgotten about George’s reputation for a second, already too used to what seemed to be his real self. “Oh wait...”

“Yeah, exactly,” Nick said impatiently, “care to explain?”

“Look,” he was at a loss for words, way too stoned out of his mind, “just don’t tell anyone, okay? You saw nothing.”

Squinting, Nick reluctantly agreed not to tell a soul. Whenever Clay used that tone on him, he knew something was serious.

They both entered the room again, the sight of George having the absolute time of his life, giggling to himself, while feeling in the clouds, making Clay laugh.

“So, George,” Nick sat down on the desk chair, spinning to look in George’s direction, “What happened to the old good boy thing you always had going on?”

“Dude,” Clay said through gritted teeth, already regretting letting him in again.

George got up and threw himself into the bed, hands behind his head with an air of confidence.

“Good boys are bad boys that haven’t been caught, I guess,” the brunette shrugged, stunning Nick and making Clay’s head spin with his response.

“I did catch you, though,” Nick chuckled and got up once again, this time making his way towards the door.

“Touché,” George giggled, following the boy with his gaze before he left and closed the door behind him. 

“He’s funny,” he pointed out once Nick was out of the room, “I like him.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Clay chuckled, now joining George on the bed, “but he’s pretty cool, to be honest.”

“Am I cool?” George looked up with innocent, star-filled eyes.

“Nah, you’re fucking lame.”

“Fuck off.”

Once again, both boys shared a smile and stayed in their own world for a while in between kisses and drags. 

Clay couldn't begin to comprehend the burning feeling in his chest or how the world seemed to stop spinning every time he and George were together, the rush and adrenaline that were brought by going against all they’ve been taught turned into an addiction, one more vice to tick off the list of many.

His body felt light as he laid next to him, the sudden memory of the smell of the old chapel and cigarette smoke coming back to haunt him in the most beautiful way possible. As he sank deeper into the soft comforter on his bed he could somehow feel the cold grass beneath him, just like the starry night they shared together in the park. Clay’s hand instinctively went up to touch his cheek, his very own Mark of Cain still present to this day in his imagination.

Mind now drifting even more, he made his way through memories from before George. All the things he had been forced to believe, the tales he was told before sleep and by the crack of dawn since he was a child came back and made him feel somewhat guilty for no reason. Deep down bad habits still stuck, after years of being brainwashed it was bound to happen. 

He closed his eyes and felt George’s arms sneak around his torso, his body now pressed against him. In his dazy state, he chuckled and went back to thinking, this time remembering the tales once again. One stuck out especially, the first one he had been told and, quite literally, the beginning of it all.

The snake, the apple, the lovers and the sin reminded Clay of reality, these materializing into George’s arms around him, their vices, their bodies pressed together and the prohibited kisses they shared in secret.

_ If this was what sin really was like, he wanted nothing more than to be a sinner. _

**━━━**

An hour later Clay woke up to a nudge on the shoulder, the first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was Nick’s shit-eating grin.

“Let's go lover boys, everyone is gone so y’all can come out of your cave,” he chuckled, the sight too strange and too sweet for him not to.

“Hm? What do you mean everyone is gone?” Clay asked, still half asleep and a bit out of his mind.

“We had to end the party early,” Nick shrugged, “Neighbors threatened us big time about calling the police, so we had to pack it up early.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry I kinda left you to manage it all on your own,” the news woke Clay up a bit more, making him feel genuinely bad for his best friend.

“Nah, it’s okay man,” he said without sounding too stressed over it, “I’ve done that to you plenty of times, so I’m taking it as karma.”

Clay shook his head, giving Nick a weak smile.

“I’m crashing on the couch, by the way,” Nick announced, “I will let you and newly found bad boy George share your bed.”

With that, he left the room and left Clay alone with a sleeping George that still had his clothes and shoes on. After debating with himself a bit, he decided to wake him up gently.

“Wake up, George,” Clay shook him awake, finally making him open his tired eyes and sit up. He could see George scan the room, trying to make out where the fuck he was.

“Clay,” he said in a soft voice that absolutely melted Clay’s heart.

_ Since when had he turned an absolute sap? _

“We fell asleep for a bit after we got high,” he explained softly, “party is done, but it’s kinda late right now, do you want to stay over?”

Clay could see George hesitate, something he rarely did these days.

“My parents are going to kill me,” he flopped onto the mattress again, hands covering his face.

“I know, but it’s really late,” Clay sighed and sat by his side, “You can worry about that tomorrow.”

Once Clay had convinced him of staying over, he let George borrow some of his clothes.

“This looks so fucking big on me, Clay!” George said as he walked out of the bathroom, one of Clay’s shirts engulfing him. 

“Oh c’mon,” was all he said, laughing playfully before getting into bed, already changed into new clothes, “you don’t look that bad wearing it.”

_ It’s rather cute, actually,  _ he thought but didn’t dare say out loud.

George rolled his eyes, shooting Clay a lopsided smile before laying by his side.


	7. Church

After hours of a deep sleep, both boys woke up a bit dazed and entangled with each other.

“Mornin’,” Clay’s voice was deeper than usual, sort of raspier and indicating he was still not ready to face the world. 

“Hey,” George greeted back, already sitting up and rubbing his eyes. In a matter of seconds, he let himself fall back by Clay’s side, the pounding feeling in his head had suddenly increased as he sat up. A groan escaped his lips as he looked up at Clay with tired eyes.

“Hangover?” 

“No shit.”

Basking in the morning sun coming from a nearby window, both boys aligned their breathing and distracted themselves from the pain by holding each other close.

“We need to get up eventually, don’t we?” George’s question came out muffled as his head was buried in the crook of Clay’s neck.

“Sadly,” Clay let out a mixture between a chuckle and a sigh, struggling to peel himself off George but sitting up regardless.

Almost on cue, Nick invited himself in for what felt like the millionth time as the smell of coffee followed in after him. Clay was going to comment on his shit state but decided not to as his best friend suddenly announced he had made some coffee.

Next thing they knew all three were sitting around the kitchen table in complete silence, feeling too miserable to do anything other than down ibuprofens with black coffee.

After moments of zoning in and out Clay noticed George’s phone buzz repeatedly as his eyes widened. 

“You good?” Clay broke the silence, preoccupied with the sight of a suddenly tense George.

The question remained unanswered as the boy excused himself and ran upstairs to gather all his stuff, leaving Clay and Nick behind with puzzled looks in their eyes. He didn’t even turn to say goodbye before leaving. 

Clay was about to say something but swallowed his words at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

“He took my shirt,” Clay whispered to himself, inaudible to Nick’s ears.

**━━━**

Hours went by and Clay went mad as he stared at his text conversation with George, his message asking if everything was okay right after he left the house still unanswered. He freaked out about it to Nick, who could only give him some kind words and reassuring smiles.

Once he was left alone with his thoughts and dimmed phone screen he decided enough was enough and decided to finally focus on something else, until his phone suddenly lit up as a wave of messages came crashing in.

_ George: hey, sorry i left so abruptly _

_ shit happened and i had to _

_ i accidentally took your shirt too btw _

_ i’m really fucking sorry _

Clay’s eyes widened, a worried expression taking over his face.

  
  


_ Clay: u can keep it idm _

_ Clay: is everything okay??? _

_ George: uhm kinda ?? _

_ Clay: what do u mean kinda _

A continuous loop of George’s three dots popping in and out worried Clay even more, just wondering why he just couldn’t spit it out already.

_ George: it’s just dumb, okay? forget it _

He let out a frustrated sigh.

_ Clay: no wait tell me im worried _

_ George: can i call u? _

Without even waiting for a response, George called anyway knowing damn well Clay would answer.

“Hey,” George’s voice was soft, a mixture between tiredness and defeat that could only be heard after someone had been crying. Clay knew this tone way too well, but never expected it from George.

“Tell me everything,” he mimicked his almost hushed voice, trying to make him feel safe.

“Just… They got so mad,” George sighed before continuing, ''I lied as best as I could, but somehow it wasn’t enough this time. My dad got angry as fuck and just started saying some shit and all I did was stand there like an  _ idiot. _ ”

Clay frowned behind the phone, staying silent to give him space to vent.

“Because that’s all I fucking do apparently! Stand there like a complete fool and take that shit in,” there was some obvious anger in his voice as it raised, “but this time it was just so… different. He went off on me, complained about last night and about me in general. He made me feel so worthless, Clay.”

His heart dropped, George’s words hitting him like a ton of bricks and leaving him speechless yet so tempted to prove him wrong as best as he could.

“That’s not true,” Clay’s tone was sincere, transparent even.

“Well, apparently it is to him,” George dryly chuckled from the other side of the call, “apparently nothing good about me is…”

The call fell silent, neither of them knowing what to say.

“Then my mom noticed the shirt and that I wasn’t wearing my clothes,” George’s voice went down again, “they questioned me, pressured me to tell them why the fuck I wasn’t wearing my clothes.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he paused for a second, “I told them nothing about everything.”

Once again, they fell silent. Clay had so many doubts, but he could only voice one.

“And what happened then?”

“And then─” 

George stopped dead in his tracks as he heard frantic knocking on his door, so loud Clay could hear it from his side of the line. Suddenly, the call abruptly ended.

Clay called again once, twice, even three times and George still didn’t answer. He worried, sent him texts, and paced around his room for what felt like hours, but nothing could seem to calm him down.

He thought about getting his bike and going to check on him, but he knew damn well that would end poorly. All he could do was wait, and Clay wasn’t exactly the patient type.

  
  


**━━**

Sunday rolled around and there was no sign of George anywhere, no texts, no calls and even less so meetups. Clay worried, overthinking even more as time went on and the night arrived.

He didn’t sleep too well, but without even realizing it the Monday morning sun was already shining outside his window and his alarm was blaring. Getting up to quickly go to the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, noticing bags under his eyes and a bit of a stubble growing on his face. 

It had literally been two days and yet it all felt like weeks.

After a mediocre and quick breakfast he set off to school, expecting to at least see him there or be able to occupy his head with something else that wasn’t worrying. Miserably disappointed, Clay found George’s seat in history class empty and didn’t see him around at all that day nor the next three days.

Enough was enough, so he texted him on Wednesday after school not really expecting a reply but just wanting to check in.

_ Clay: george ur worrying me what’s going on ?? where are you ??? _

He got an immediate response, somehow.

_ George: im okay, just grounded _

_ don’t worry about me pls _

Clay couldn’t help but do so anyways. Sure, he got a bit of closure after knowing he at least was okay, but his mind still couldn’t help but run wild.

The next day George ended up showing up to school, but completely ignored Clay’s presence as he only sat in class and wrote down notes without even thinking about him or walked the halls saying hi to everyone but him.

He wondered if he had done something wrong and beat himself up for nothing, spiralling and getting frustrated for no reason.

Friday was just like that as well, the torture of not talking to him making him feel hopeless.

_ Since when did his mood depend this much on George?  _ Clay asked himself, not really getting why he had been so affected over this than he would with any other person. 

On Saturday, a whole week after the incident, Clay made up a plan. Not his brightest idea, but his urge to finally confront George and see him once again motivated him to wake up early the next day only to bike all the way towards the town church with Nick by his side.

“Are you sure I’m not going to disintegrate once we step foot there?” Nick asked as they left their bikes by the entrance.

“Won’t make any promises,” Clay said before opening the big doors, clearly late as the Priest was already talking and the pews were all occupied. They looked around, noticing they were seriously underdressed.

Little did both boys know the doors were heavier than they expected, and Nick carelessly let it close behind him, making a loud slamming noise. Heads turned and the Priest cleared his throat, making both get red with embarrassment. 

Clay looked at the amused and annoyed gazes, eyes suddenly finding George’s, who tensed up as he stood by his parent’s side. 

_ He looks fucking good in those khakis, _ was Clay’s first thought at the sight, but it quickly went away as all heads turned away and George’s stayed immobile.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” George mouthed silently, hoping Clay was able to read lips. His parents whispered something to him, which made him turn away and keep on pretending to be listening.

Nick elbowed Clay, quietly telling him all this was a bad idea and that he was heading out to smoke, earning a shush from an old lady in the last pew.

Mass dragged on as always, Clay’s only entertainment being staring at the back of George’s neck until it was over.

With a deep breath as everyone started stampeding out, Clay approached him carefully, growing nervous but also determined to once and for all talk to him again and get to the bottom of everything.

“Hey,” he put on his sweetest smile as he stood before both George and his parents, “George, can I talk to you for a sec?”

The boy before him hesitated, already opening his mouth to reply but suddenly being cut off by his dad.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” his voice was stern and his eyes looked Clay up and down and clearly disapproving of him.

“I’m Clay, sir,” he introduced himself as politely as he could, trying to win him over but failing as the man’s facial expression changed.

“Ah, yes,” he said, “I thought I recognized you…”

_ What the fuck does that mean?  _ Clay thought, completely lost.

“You’re that kid from my son’s school, right? The one who’s friends with the old expulsee?” He continued.

“Dad,” George tried to stop him.

“That boy who causes trouble anywhere he goes?”

“Dad, please,” George’s tone was serious now, but still soft enough as he pleaded.

“The owner of the shirt my son was wearing when he got home and reeked of marijuana, aren’t you?” 

Clay was caught off guard, the question hitting him like a ton of bricks.  _ How did he even find out about it? _

“To answer your question, no. You cannot talk to my son…”

“Dad!” George raised his voice, exclaiming his words and making everyone that was still in the church turn around, his father included.

“Don’t you dare raise your tone at me, young boy,” he warned, raising a menacing finger before turning back to Clay, “You can’t even get close to him under no circumstances. I don’t want my kid hanging out with someone like you and your little friend.”

The man looked back at the door, his raised finger now pointing at a very shocked Nick that had just reentered the building.

Clay’s body filled with rage as the words sank in, a different heat now taking over him. He breathed in, first looking at a very much angered George and then into the man’s eyes.

“Fuck you,” he spat out before turning around and making his way out, leaving everyone, including Nick, shocked.

“Clay!” George tried to escape, but a hand quickly and strongly held him by the arm.

“Don’t you dare get near him.”


	8. Take Aim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! this is a small note to let you guys know there will be guns mentioned and used in this chapter. they are NOT used in any humans or animals, it's just them shooting at objects. with that being said, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and fic in general :)

After the incident George didn’t text Clay back for hours, making him believe he went a bit too far, even if he didn’t regret his words at all. Why would he after all the shit Mr. Davidson had thrown at him? No way he was going to show any remorse after defending himself.

Trying to forget his day, Clay decided to take advantage of his parents not being home until tomorrow afternoon by blasting music. 

He got lost in the guitar sounds and rough vocals of a cliche indie band, letting himself loose and singing off-key, he flopped in bed as he lit up a carefully rolled joint that reminded him of George for a split second.

Clay visualized the sight of him that one night and replayed it in his head, focusing on the memory of soft lips parting to blow smoke and gentle fingers running through his tousled hair. The thought of supernovas hollowing their chests and their nebulous thoughts as they got lost in space right on his bedroom floor made him chuckle, still in awe at the very real scenario in his mind.

After hours of reminiscing, listening to repetitive guitar riffs, and getting stoned, night arrived without him even noticing.

His stomach growled once, twice, and three times until he decided to finally listen to his body and eat something for the first time that day. He ran down to the kitchen, fishing for some food in the almost empty fridge, and went back upstairs as he heard a sudden noise coming from his room. The noise was subtle, but still audible, as if it were raining or hailing. Clay’s window was being pelted by something he couldn’t quite determine. 

After putting down his plate on the desk, he hesitantly opened the window only to be hit in the face with a small pebble.

Clay whispered a curse, covering his face before trying to spot the person that hit him.

To his surprise, he was met with familiar eyes and George’s moonlit figure.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the boy asked, a confused look soon turned into a fond gaze and his signature smirk.

“Thought I’d come by and say hi,” George’s hands were inside his pockets as a small breeze went by, blowing his hair in every direction. The sight was nothing but heartwarming.

“Even after we both got yelled at by your dad?” Clay scoffed, leaning against his window as he looked down at George.

“Made me want to come by even more.”

“God, you’re insane.”

“Maybe,” George shrugged, his change in demeanor catching Clay off guard but lighting the fire in his chest back up. He missed this side of George after not seeing it shine all week, “Let’s do something fun,” the brunette boy suggested.

Clay arched an eyebrow and smiled when George extended a hand, inviting him to jump out his window and join him in the front garden. 

He felt electricity running up his feet and legs, just like that time when they jumped the park fence. The landing wasn’t his best and he stumbled forward but managed to keep his balance somehow. 

“Y’know, I could’ve gone through the front door since my parents are still out,” Clay chuckled, still preferring the rush of jumping out his window.

“That would ruin the experience, though,” George tugged him by the hand, already leading the way. Clay followed behind him and didn’t question where they were going, knowing George, he was certain they really were going to have fun no matter where.

They walked through the quiet streets as they commented on how bright the stars were and how big the full moon seemed that night. Without really noticing it, both were far from the house filled streets and met with a desolate road Clay didn’t quite recognize.

“Where are you taking me?” he looked around and saw nothing but trees and cracked pavement, “Are you going to kill me or something?”

George stayed quiet, something that would alarm anyone if they didn’t know George like he did.

Clay hummed, going with it anyway and blindly trusting George as he had never done with anyone before. It sort of alarmed Clay, how safe and careless he felt around George no matter what.

After some more walking, both could make out the silhouette of a lonely house by the side of the road that intrigued Clay to say the least. Once again, he was tugged by the hand and forced to start running in the same direction as George until they reached the unkempt house.

“Okay, you’re definitely going to kill me or something.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

And, as always, Clay did.

They circled the house and reached an unlocked back door that led them inside, letting Clay look around and spot a couch in the middle of the room and some discarded glass bottles around. The walls were full of spray painted explicit images and random names, a random and odd cartoon character he didn’t recognize clearly.

George let go of Clay’s hand and looked around the corner of the room. He scanned the boys’ surroundings as if he was searching for something. Clay stared at him, a look of confusion plastered on his face. George spun back around to face the blond and noticed his expression.

“Gotta make sure we won’t wake up anyone who is crashing here for the night,” the smaller boy said. This didn’t clear everything up for Clay, however, who was still quite lost.

“It’s time to make some noise and break some shit. Your  _ stunt _ today left me with a little bit of…” George trailed off, at a loss for words.

Clay arched an eyebrow and slightly tipped his head to the side, silently letting George know he was intrigued.

“A little bit?” he questioned, only getting a sigh in response.

George shook his head before walking away towards the couch and kneeling before it, careful hands traveled under it and took out a dust-covered box, confusing Clay even further. The possibilities were endless, and almost each and every one of them crossed his mind.

“Do me a favor,” George said after getting up and dusting off his jeans, looking up at Clay with doe eyes that could convince anyone to do anything, “get some of those bottles in the corner and bring them outside.”

Clay doubted his intentions a bit but obeyed nonetheless. Taking all the empty bottles he could and avoiding a couple that had suspicious liquids still inside them, he followed George’s orders.

The gentle breeze from before had turned into a cool soft wind strong enough to blow his dirty blond hair in all kinds of directions. Clay enjoyed this kind of cold yet comforting weather, so he just stood there for a moment until he was snapped out of it all by footsteps coming behind him. George approached him with the same box from before in hand and a playful smirk he instantly mimicked. Without saying a single word George set the box atop an old picnic table a couple of feet away from them, making Clay follow him and sit by his side as he eyed the box with curious eyes.

Just like the time George took the beers out of his backpack at the park, he had a mischievous look on his face that made Clay go mad. His eyes lit up and his smile had an air of confidence, and God, did that make him feel all types of emotions at once.

He opened the box, revealing something Clay had only seen in dreams and tv shows.

_ George had a fucking gun. _

Clay’s eyes opened wide, the sight before him too surreal. There was no way this man just pulled out a gun like it was nothing.

“Is that real?” he asked while in shock, eyes now darting up from the gun to George, who nodded in response.

“Wanna try it out?” 

If Clay wasn’t losing his mind before, then he certainly was now after hearing those words come out of the boy’s mouth. The contrast between George’s warm self and the cold metal gun amused him, a small part of his twisted brain enjoying the contradicting sight.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, deciding to let himself go and indulge in the adrenaline he always felt around George, “let’s fucking do this.”

This time, Clay was the one to take the first step and grab both the gun and George’s hand, quickly noticing how different they both felt. 

The gun was heavy but George’s hand was light, yet both felt equally as dangerous and filled him with adrenaline and a need to rebel against the world. He wanted nothing but to feel this rush coursing through his veins, and knowing George was always present to keep it running was almost heaven-sent.

George took the gun from his hand and instructed him to line the bottles up side by side, Clay now getting a bit of an idea of what they were about to do. Quickly, he did what he was told and went back to George’s side, who looked at him with a toothy grin before holding the gun with two hands and confidence in his face.

Clay looked as he raised it at arms length, noticing his hold was steady and strong, hands not even shaking one bit while he aimed at one of the bottles and closed one eye.

And then the gun went off, hitting one of the bottles and blowing it into a million pieces with a loud  _ bang  _ that left Clay’s ears ringing and head spinning as dopamine took over his brain.

“Your turn,” George handed him the gun and blond took it, feeling its heavyweight once again but no longer feeling the metallic cold. Clay’s hands were shaking a bit, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t blame it on the cool midnight air.

Mimicking the other’s movements, he tried aiming as best as he could but couldn’t help but hesitate and get his hands to stop shaking. George came to the rescue, though, placing himself behind him and suddenly placing his hands on top of Clay’s and resting his head on his shoulder as he stood on his tiptoes.

“It’s not too hard, I promise,” George whispered in his ear, the shivering of his hands now running down his spine, “stay steady, okay? I will help you hold it and make sure you don’t let it go once it fires, yeah?”

Clay had never been in such a position, not only the one in which he was holding a gun, but also one where he had no sort of power over someone whatsoever. With George he let himself go and was constantly trusting him and falling into his arms, letting him teach him new things he never thought someone like him would be capable of.

So, once again, he trusted George as he grounded himself in place and let himself go and be consumed by adrenaline and the brunette’s touch.

So, without even noticing it, Clay fired his first-ever bullet and miraculously hit one of the bottles that exploded into tiny pieces, blowing in all directions. 

He let out a genuine laugh before turning around to look at George with wonder-filled eyes, pulling him in and cupping his cheeks to place a kiss on his lips.

The night passed by fairly quickly as they shot bottles and kissed, feeling invincible. Once done, they sat on the table and looked at the fading stars in silence, enjoying the last bit of darkness left before sunrise.

“We should go,” Clay got off the table and extended his hand, inviting George to join him in the ground.

“Let me put this away and we’ll be on our way,” George gestured to the box, quickly grabbing his hand and hopping off to quickly make his way inside, leaving Clay alone with his thoughts.

His thoughts wandered through past memories and tonight’s events as he fished a lighter from the pocket of his sweatpants and a pack of cigarettes from the other, lighting one up before putting it up to his lips slowly. He just stood there, looking into the road and smiling to himself in between drags and flashing images of George’s delicate hands slightly tugging his hair while they sloppily kissed tonight and him devotedly kneeling before the cross in mass that time after they first laid eyes on each other. Despite both memories being complete opposites, he somewhat found comfort in both due to knowing how to separate the forged devotion from the authentic one.

“Ready to go?” George’s voice took him out of his trance, making him turn in the direction it came from.

“Yeah, let’s get going,” Clay agreed before letting what was left of his cigarette fall to the ground and putting it out with his foot, “it’s my turn to show you something.”


	9. Whole

Once back in the suburbs and seeing the sky change color slowly, Clay was quick to get home and unlock the door with George by his side. He didn’t bother giving him a tour, time running out and assuming he somehow remembered despite his state of ebriety.

Clay led George to the third floor, an attic cluttered with boxes and old memorabilia. Ducking under big spiderwebs and stepping on discarded objects, Clay made his way to open the only window in the room, silently ordering George to follow behind and climb out the window with him. Hesitantly, George did and found himself on the roof of the house.

Towering over the calm streets and sitting silently, both boys enjoyed each other's company and the rising sun.

“Not as impressive as the gun shooting, but I wanted to show you this place regardless,” Clay broke the silence, speaking into the wind and not looking George in the eyes, “I come here to think sometimes, to have some peace and whatnot, y’know?”

George looked at him expectantly, taking in the ethereal sight of Clay’s side profile basking in the little bit of sun that was out yet.

“Have you thought about me up here?” George playfully asked, genuinely curious and weirdly nervous.

“Oh, totally,” Clay chuckled, now looking back at George, “more times than you can even imagine.” 

The confession was impulsive, completely forward and heartfelt, just like everything they’ve done and said together so far.

“Interesting,” George smiled truthfully, a warm feeling creeping up his chest and stopping at his cheeks, “I think about you too.”

“Do you, now?”

“Yeah, quite often actually.”

“Who would’ve thought,” Clay turned back to stare at the already fully visible sun, putting on a smirk, “forgive the redundancy.”

After that, silence fell upon them as they both, funnily enough, thought about each other.

“I think I need to get going before we get our asses beat,” George abruptly said, sighing in disappointment as he checked the time on his phone.

Both got inside in seconds, walking to the front door hand in hand as always but having to let go eventually as George parted ways.

“Wait!” Clay called out before George was completely gone.

“Yeah?”

“What do we do now?” he asked with a hint of nervousness.

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know, today at school,” Clay paused, “What do we do?”

“We play our parts, I guess.”   


“Our parts?”

“You go your way and I go mine,” George shrugged, sadness hidden behind his eyes despite his strong statement, “We just do what we’re meant to do, right?”

“Yeah, right,” he sighed, understanding George’s words and knowing it was best for both of them, but still hurting deep down, “uh, well then I’ll see you later, George.”

“I’ll see you later, Clay.”

**━━━**

Mere minutes passed and Clay was already dressed in his uniform, tie messily tied even after years of using it. His breakfast was quick and half-assed, his parents still not there to help him until noon.

Biking to school, he made it just in time before the bell rang. Everything was going seemingly well, but still not enough to make his current mood better.

George’s words echoed in his mind as classes went by, the thought of such a beautiful night being ruined by a couple of words enraging him little by little. He truly thanked God for not having any of his shared classes with him today.

After many agonizingly long lectures, Clay was finally free to go and get ready for soccer practice.

As he roamed the halls, he spotted George talking to someone out of the corner of his eye before covertly waving his hand at him. All he got back was an unreadable look and nothing else, tugging at his heartstrings and making his mood even worse.

Once in the field and out of the halls, Clay stretched with his teammates before splitting into teams and assigning positions, undoubtedly getting striker but not really caring.

Mindlessly, he began playing and running behind the ball until he got a pass that could help define the match, an easy score for Clay anyway. That is, until he found himself face to face with another player and felt a strong kick to his shin.

The pain was sharp, making Clay lose the ball and fall over unwillingly, missing the goal.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Clay said between gritted teeth, looking up at his teammate with an angry gaze, “You did that shit on purpose!”

The other boy apologized half-heartedly without even looking at him, not thinking too much of the situation nor taking Clay’s mood into consideration.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you, asshole,” Clay said as he got up from the ground with a new bruise on his leg and mud-stained shorts, “That should’ve gotten you a red card! Where the fuck is Coach Johnson!?”

His teammates reunited around both players as Clay’s opponent told him to calm down, angering him even more and earning the guy a violent push soon to be returned.

“Did you just put a hand on me?” Clay asked as he raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the boy’s audacity, “Did you just fucking touch me?”

A teammate jumped in, asking why Clay was so aggressive and trying to explain it was all an accident. This angered him further and led to a new push. This time at the poor guy just trying to make things better.

Suddenly, a punch was thrown at Clay, who thankfully dodged it. Clearly, he threw one back that actually hit the opponent’s nose and left him confused for a second before someone jumped in again and tried separating them.

Clay was raging, fingernails digging on the palm of his hand as he balled it into a fist, ready to attack again. Before he could even raise his fist again, he got hit on the face. Spitting some blood to the side and instantly being restrained by his teammates when he moved forward, leaving no space between their bodies.

Late as always, Coach Johnson made his way towards the fight and ended it by threatening them with serious consequences. The boys reluctantly separated, the coach’s menacing words enough to stop their brawl. 

After being told to get cleaned and immediately go home, Clay made his way to the bathroom and winced as the water hit his busted lip, and quickly headed outside to grab his bike.

By the time he got home, his parents were already back from their trip, but Clay didn’t even bother greeting them before locking himself in his room. In order to unwind and distract himself from angry thoughts, he put his headphones on and blasted one of his pretentious rock playlists.

His attempts at shaking off his feelings were unfruitful and fueled a fire in his chest, one extremely different from the one he felt every time he was by George’s side.

Clay did crave that kind of fire, though, and that was what made him want to scream. He was addicted to that feeling, a new vice he found himself indulging in and missing all the time, especially now.

He sighed in defeat and left his room to go up to the attic, anger turning into sadness and then phasing back again, a never-ending cycle of damning George in his head for starting this mess. 

Climbing out of the window, he sat on the roof and shut his eyes tightly, going over this morning’s conversation again and again as if he was memorizing a script. 

_ “You go your way and I go mine”  _

George’s words hurt him more than he would like to admit, hitting him like a punch to the gut. He felt used, now left wondering if he was only a piece in George’s game. 

_ Was he a mere pawn or the mighty king?  _ Clay asked himself as aggressive drawn-out vocals filled his ears.

_ “We just do what we’re meant to do” _

He still didn’t quite get what they were meant to do or what parts they were supposed to play, were they just supposed to forget and keep going? Or were they meant to forever stay apart in the eyes of the world?

_ What if I’m just a part of his fake rebellious phase?  _ He doubted himself, feeling self-conscious for the first time in forever,  _ What if I’m just a temporary fix? _

Clay felt tears threatening to come out, not knowing if they were from sadness or rage. Either way, he was determined not to let them fall. Footsteps approaching startled him and snapped him out of the pity party he was throwing for himself.

“Hey, honey”

“Hi, mom,” Clay said in a soft voice, offering her a weak smile.

“Can I sit up here with you for a bit?” She asked in a sweet tone, mimicking his smile but making hers brighter.

Clay scooted over, making some room for her to join him on the roof and avoiding eye contact by looking straight into the sunset until his mom decided to end their silence.

“Did you know you fell from this very roof when you were a kid?” She reminded him, trying to at least get a genuine smile out of him after sensing the tension.

“Yeah, I had to wear a cast for like two months,” Clay chuckled, the memory and image in his head quite comical even if it was the most pain he’s ever felt, “It hurt like hell.”

“I bet,” she sighed before looking into Clay’s teary eyes, “You didn’t cry, though.”

Clay sniffled before looking away from his mom’s gaze, trying hard not to break down.

“You’ve never been one to cry, actually, especially when physically hurt,” his mom pointed out, her tone soothing and gentle as if she was talking to a child, “I’ve seen you cry very few times, but those I’ve seen were filled with emotion.”

“What do you mean?”

“You only cry when you have strong feelings towards something,” she paused for a second, gathering her thoughts and putting them into simple words for Clay to understand, “And, from what I can tell, you’re having some right now.”

“How would you know?” Clay scoffed, still holding back tears.

“Because I’m your mother, Clay,” the woman put a hand on his back, making Clay turn to face her and finally let go.

With tears running down his face, Clay pulled her in for a hug, something that was rare now that he had grown up. He missed the feeling of his mom’s arms around him, making him feel at home and peaceful.

“I just feel like I’m not allowed to feel so strongly about him,” He confessed, his voice a bit muffled against his mom’s shoulder, “It feels so wrong, yet so right.”

“You’re allowed to feel strongly about anyone, honey,” A hand went up to pet his hair, soothing him and making Clay melt even more into the hug, “As long as it makes you feel whole, it’s probably right. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

Smiling into the hug, Clay hummed at his mother’s words and thanked whoever was up there for having her in his life. Seconds after, they let go of each other and sighed contently.

“I love you, mom.” Clay said earnestly, meaning it with his whole heart.

“I love you too, Clay,” She carefully wiped his tears away with her thumb and cupped his face for a moment, admiring her son with a warm smile, “Let’s go inside, dinner is going to be ready soon.”


	10. Play the Part

Clay’s first proper meal after a week was heavenly, his mother’s cooking always hitting all the right spots. Dinner was quiet as always, but it wasn’t something he minded too much after years of the same ritual.

Sadness still remained, his eyes were puffy and he couldn’t help but sniffle a bit over dinner, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be covered up with an allergy excuse. Clay’s chest was still heavy and his feet didn’t really feel like leaving the floor as he made his way to the bedroom.

He let himself fall into bed with his uniform and shoes still on, laying in the darkness before sighing dramatically. He felt like a teenage cliché, the whole scene out of a modern tragicomedy that made him cringe at his current self.

Enough was enough and Clay got fed up with his moping, so his first instinct was to get up and try to forget his day by finally doing something useful. He got clothes off the floor, cleaned under his bed, and even sat down to do some history homework to prove himself he didn’t need George there to help him. He was doing great by himself and it somehow cheered him up a bit.

Once done he finally started paying attention to his phone, finding missed texts from George and one from Nick, giving him a brilliant idea.

_ Clay: wyd rn? _

That was all Clay sent, disregarding the question Nick had asked prior to this message, but regardless the reply came instantly.

_ Nick: u never ask that im scared _

_ what do u want now _

_ Clay: sorry for caring about u ig _

_ well i was thinking u know _

_ Nick: that can’t be good _

_ Clay: shut up _

_ lets get fucked up :) _

_ Nick: okay yea that's actually good _

_ who would’ve thought _

_ pick u up in 25? _

Tossing his phone on his bed, Clay quickly got up and out of his uniform to change into more comfortable clothes as quickly as he could. He needed to go out, forget about today’s events once and for all.

A new text from Nick came through just in time and almost on cue, letting Clay know he was close. Making sure he was as silent as possible, he skillfully climbed out his window and ended up landing right on a bush on accident, making him pray his parents didn’t hear the rustling of the leaves.

Inevitably, adrenaline placed itself at the pit of his stomach and took over the flow in his veins, but Clay couldn’t help but notice how different it felt this time. The exhilaration wasn’t there, nor the thrill of illusioned corruption.

He hopped in the passenger seat once Nick arrived and closed the door carefully before they drove off. Clay noticed they weren’t alone once he looked through the rearview mirror where two giggling girls’ faces were reflected. Shortly after, he was introduced to them, learning their names and that they went to Clay’s school, finally placing a finger on why they were so familiar.

Too focused on Nick’s bad driving and his new conversation with the girls, Clay didn’t quite check the route they were taking until everything got weirdly dark and the residential area began to disappear. He saw very few lamp posts adorning the side of the road, helping him discern their location, a route suspiciously similar to the one he had taken with George two nights before.

“Where are we going?” the girl introduced to him as Adelina inquired from her spot in the backseat.

“This pretty cool place I learned about not too long ago,” Nick looked her way, taking his eyes off the road for a second, “I’m pretty sure no one’s there tonight, so we’ll have the whole place to ourselves!”

Clay started looking out the window, spotting trees and signs he had seen before that one night, trying to convince himself it was probably a coincidence, until the moment his eyes could kind of make out the silhouette of the run down house. He muttered a curse, his plan to forget George had completely backfired and comically brought him back to the root of the problem.

A sigh escaped his lips once he got out of the car, trying to hide his prior knowledge of this place from his companions. Memories came and went, the thought of the gun under the couch and their shared kisses under the moon made his heart ache and his hands feel the ghost of George’s own touch before suddenly getting tugged into the house. His reminiscing came to an end once he realized the hand on his wasn’t George’s, but Adelina’s; the difference between their touch abysmal, and the lack of electricity disappointing.

Clay smiled bitterly as he saw Nick and Nadia sitting on the couch, unsuspecting of what hid under it. He didn’t dare say a thing about the gun, feeling as if it was a new little secret shared between George and him.

_ Pathetic, _ he thought, finding the fact that he still felt obligated to protect the one person he was running from tonight foolish.

Some beer cans and joints later, all four were a laughing mess and Clay had completely forgotten about George at this point. He and Adelina started getting closer, talking in between drags and laughing at Nick and Nadia’s sloppy drunken kissing before getting up and going outside, giving them some space. 

Both walked side by side as they shared stories and cracked jokes, finally ending up at the same picnic table he and George kissed at. Clay’s state of ebriety didn’t really let him go back to that memory, helping him make the night and mood easier and carefree, no more restrictions in the form of the memory of George’s tender touches holding him back. So, when Adelina’s lips collided with his he felt no remorse. That is, until her hand made its way to the back of his neck and started playing with his hair, slightly tugging at it and reminding Clay of George’s slender fingers doing the same at the party. A wave of memories came flooding back, her soft lips in his somewhat comparable to the ghost of George’s.

Nevertheless, Clay tried kissing the memories away and keeping his cold hands pressed up against her warm skin. Breaking the kiss to take a breath and looking down at a smiling Adelina, Clay panicked inside for the first time in a long time.

“Uh let’s go get some beer, I bet they’re probably done by now,” he chuckled, trying to seem as natural as possible. Apparently, his acting was convincing enough, convincing her to go back with intertwined fingers as the sun started rising on the horizon, the feeling still foreign and unmatched for Clay.

Inside they both found Nick and Nadia cuddled up on the couch, small snores being all they could hear coming from the spot the two passed out at. Adelina took out her phone, taking a picture she vowed to send Clay for blackmail material. The sight was wholesome, Nadia wearing Nick’s hoodie reminding him of the time he gave George his shirt. Is this the equivalent of what Nick saw the night of the party?

_ This is getting out of control, _ Clay thought, tired of unwillingly relating everything to George and getting reminded of him by every little love-filled gesture.

Neither wanted to end the moment, but Clay was the one who took the initiative and shook the couple awake to let them know it was time to head home if all of them wanted to make it to school on time. Groggily, Nick and Nadia complied and helped them clean up before returning.

After an uncharacteristically slow drive home, Clay snuck back in with caution despite feeling a bit lightheaded right as the alarm started blaring.

He got ready for the day rather slowly due to his state but managed to get his uniform on and adjust his tie quite well. Walking into the bathroom and looking in the mirror, Clay realized he didn’t look half as bad as he thought and chuckled at the fact that he was still intact and ready to put on a new mask, one that hid his emotions for George and feigned disinterest.

**━━━**

Clay saw George twice that morning, once in class and another as he walked the hallways with his arm over Adelina’s shoulders. He could’ve sworn he saw a hint of something in George’s eyes but ended up blaming it on his overthinking brain. 

His lunch was spent with Adelina as well, both now attached at the hip and being talked about by the whole school. Clay laughed genuinely at her jokes and Adelina shamelessly flirted, the pair actually enjoying each other’s company and focusing on each other until Clay’s eyes shifted from the girl before him to George sitting a couple of tables away. Their eyes met with matched intensity, George’s body language and dark gaze making Clay bite back a smile and turn it all up a notch. He eyed Adelina’s hands resting on the table and smirked, taking them both into his own to get a reaction out of George.

The bell rang at the perfect moment, snapping George out of his trance and giving Clay an excuse to let her hands go before making his way to his last class of the day. Taking his time, he walked through the half-empty hallways alone, bag hanging from his shoulder and a hint of a smirk on his face.

Unexpectedly, Clay felt a hand around his wrist pulling him in a different direction. He didn’t even flinch as he felt the familiar delicate yet firm touch, knowing damn well who the owner of that hand was. What he wasn’t expecting, though, was being led to the place where everything started. 

The chapel was empty, no teachers nor choir kids still hanging out inside and no surveillance around. It was all theirs, just like it was that one time where they first held hands and ran like no tomorrow; their first shared sin.

“Woah, easy there,” Clay chuckled once they stood inside, his words echoing.

“You’re an asshole,” George spat out, crossing his arms over his chest and looking rather annoyed.

“Oh am I, now?” he scoffed, the name not catching him off guard but also not sitting well with him at all, “How so?”

“You’re doing all of this on purpose.”   


“All of this?”

“All this flirting shit,” George was clearly mad, his jaw clenched and gaze darker, “you’re messing with me for no reason! You’re being a dick.”

“Oh so  _ I’m  _ the dick now?” Clay was amused at the audacity, the nerve George had to act as if he was the innocent one in this situation, “I’m just  _ doing what I’m meant to do.  _ Weren’t you the one who wanted that, huh? The one that just wanted us to play our parts and forget everything that has been going on?”

George looked deep into Clay’s eyes, not really knowing how to refute his statement but still feeling a mixture of anger and sadness.

“I don’t want that and you know it, Clay. I never said I wanted to stop or have us forget each other completely! I just don’t want trouble,” George took a deep breath, “I don’t want us to get caught and ruin everything, is that too hard to understand?”

“And what if we get caught? Fuck this school, fuck all they’ve taught us!” Clay looked around, ever so idealistic.

“Are you insane!? We can’t just do _ that _ and you know it,” his words bounced on every wall, making them even more menacing, “Did you forget what happened on Sunday already? Do you even take  _ my _ fucking feelings into consideration? Clay, I want this as much as you, but I just can’t!”

It was now Clay’s turn to stand in silence, too many thoughts and emotions threatening to come out but not daring to do so.

“I have a reputation, I can’t just get up and risk it all even if I really wanted to,” George’s tone died down suddenly, giving into the moment and letting himself be vulnerable for once, “and I really want to because whatever this shit is makes me feel so whole,” he admitted, a hint of sadness in his voice, “and I’ve never felt this whole, ever.”

“George…” 

“But I just can’t, no matter how bad I want you.”

“I want you too,” Clay said in a hushed tone, getting closer to George and taking his hand on his, that electricity he craved last night when he held Adelina’s finally coming back, “so fucking bad.”


	11. For I have Sinned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! this is a bit of a short one, but i promise I will come back soon with a regular length chapter !! hope u enjoy :)

“Then please just try to put yourself in my position, Clay,” George squeezed his hand, getting even closer now, “please understand that this isn’t as easy as you think.”

“It could be, though,” The space between them was almost nonexistent, a strange force pulling them together as if their bodies were magnetic, “we could make it if we try hard enough.”

“It really couldn’t,” George’s voice was soft, full of sincerity and transparency, “not right now, at least.”

They stood there for a moment, the words sinking in and burning a hole right through Clay’s chest. His selfish ways couldn’t help but cloud his thoughts partially, but he understood George’s point and knew that if he wanted this to continue he would have to give up his pride.

“I’m sorry,” Clay whispered, leaning slightly down and resting his forehead on George’s, “I don’t want to rush you.”

“Thank you,” George replied in a similar whisper, looking deep into Clay’s eyes and getting lost in them before shifting his loving gaze to his lips.

“You can just kiss me,” A smirk made itself present on Clay’s face, “you know that, right?”

And so he did, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that quickly became passionate. They felt whole, devotedly giving into each other under the colored light that reflected off the chapel windows in the same way a believer would to their savior. 

The scene was a vivid representation of forbiddenness, their love as sweet as Eden’s prohibited apple and just as daring as Eve. Clay’s hands cupped George’s cheeks, touch as warm as golden light and just as sacred.

Just as they cut the kiss to breathe and look at each other in awe, both heard a noise by the door just like they did last time. Cursing their luck, they ran to hide, finding a confessional close to the back of the chapel.

The wooden confessional was tiny, their bodies barely fitting on the confessing side with Clay on the seat and George on top of him. They remained silent for a bit, hands over their mouths to stop laughter from coming out and blowing their cover.

Once the noises went away they laughed in unison before George turned around and looked deep into Clay’s eyes once again, a smile that quickly turned into a smirk on his face.

“Are we not going to get out of here?” the blond asked from beneath him.

“Hm, I kinda like it here,” George’s tone was teasing, matching his expression as he messily turned to face Clay and trapped him between him and the hard wood behind his back. With the breathing leaving their slightly parted lips mingling in the middle and their erratic heartbeats in sync, the world seemed to stay still just for the two of them.

Once again, George looked like he was going to kiss Clay’s lips, but opted for his neck instead. He expertly kissed and left red marks here and there, these more real than the one left imprinted in Clay’s mind and cheek after their first meeting at the chapel. After some more kissing, George peeled their bodies away and looked down at him with a playful smile.

“I have an idea,” he teased, intriguing the other and making him raise an eyebrow, “confess your sins to me.”

“My sins?”

“All you’ve ever wanted to tell me,” George got closer once again, whispering his words into Clay’s ear, “all the things you’ve always thought of doing to me.”

Clay couldn't help but bite the inside of his cheek to repress a groan, only allowing himself to smirk at the words. George, on the other hand, was already standing up and moving to the booth next to him.

They knew the drill, Clay was already on his knees and the opening words were already at the tip of his tongue.

“Bless me for I have sinned,” he began, skipping the ‘father’ and continuing on by beginning to confess, “for I have kissed this boy and gave in to temptation by falling into old habits and new vices, finding more solace in his arms than in God’s heart,” Clay took a deep breath, stopping himself from smiling once again, “For I have thought of him non-stop, day and night and while in prayer, imagining him in my bed as I trace patterns on his bare skin and admire his figure. My heart yearns for his touch and the electricity between us as we share nights and sunsets, firing guns into the horizon and feeling invincible, holier than any of the saints in heaven,” he looked through the wooden screen, spotting a smiling George behind it, “and for I have started believing in a new God that makes me feel alive and cared for, that has shown me a new kind of light when he smiles and ended my hunger with his lips, making me want to worship his body and preach the gospel of his being.”

With nothing to add, Clay finally let himself smile before saying his final prayer and waiting for George to speak up but getting nothing until the door to his side opened.

“If you’re a sinner then I might as well be the Antichrist,” George kneeled down beside him, offering him the same genuine and taunting smile he once did the very first day they met.


End file.
